~*~
“They say if you dream a thing
more than once, it's sure to come true.”
Felix shook his head. “Then
they'd better be wrong.”
~*~
Braden resisted the urge to
shake his brother by the shoulders. Felix had twenty-one good years
to his name, but that didn't mean he was always sensible. Braden had
a toddling son who proved rather a handful, but that didn't mean he
was always patient.
~*~
“Ouch!”
Marita Kadlec yanked her hand
back from the spinning wheel and glared at her finger. Already, a
drop of blood was forming. Annoyed, she wiped at it hastily with a
rag bearing the pain of previous pricks. Directing a well-deserved
scowl at the spindle, she shook her injured finger at it.
“And this is just one reason
why I hate you so.”
~*~
Early mornings never liked
Marita. She was a night owl, through and through. Her mind awoke at
night; her brain thrived on the light of the stars. Thoughts and
questions bombarded her in the darkness like no other time. But here
she was now – off just after dawn to start her new job. Her
grandmother thought the morning bright and early, but Marita
disagreed. There was nothing bright about this morning.
She kicked at a stone in her
path and watched it skitter away. It settled dejectedly in a small
gully near the edge of the road, right where the ground dropped off
to allow the stream to follow the curve of the road. Or perhaps the
road followed the curve of the stream. Marita sighed – what did it
matter?
~*~
“Now where is your rider?”
The
horse nuzzled her, and she stoked his velvet face. She couldn't
remember the last time she'd been around a horse. It
would have been before Mother...
her mind quenched the rest of the thought.
“Samson!”
Marita turned to see the rider
stumbling up the road. He could have been only a year or two older
than herself, and his clothes would have been fine save for the fact
that they left a trail of water on the road. His head was bare, and
disheveled dark hair dripped into his eyes. And due to some unknown
circumstance, he walked bootless. The sight was rather hilarious, and
Marita struggled to hold a giggle in check.
He approached the horse and
shook a dripping finger at it. “No carrots.”
If horses could smirk, Marita
was pretty sure Samson smirked.
God bless!
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